Chapter Text
Flashing lights, aggravating crowds, reporters wanting immediate answers, shoving their microphones with the usual questions that Ludwig had heard enough of ever since the discovery. They followed him all throughout the parking lot, with the consistency of noise, of begging, of demand, and yet he remained in the same stoic expression, eyes forward and his mouth shut. His secretary, Roderich, had advised him to simply remain silent and move along to the main doors of the museum, which he managed easy entrance to with the help of guards who did well in pushing away the massive crowds, bringing Ludwig to the relaxation of its marbled walls, its silence, visitors watching in elegance and trying to avoid obvious glances to the known archeologist. His visit was a well-known one, mentioned in all kinds of articles and journals, an attention that he had been aggravating about and the museum knew well about, especially after the director, Francis Bonnefoy, warned them to not add to the stress he was surely feeling with everything that was going on. Said Frenchman was the very first one to greet him, with a handshake and having a worker take Ludwig’s coat elsewhere.
“I apologize greatly for this, I hadn’t thought that the news would be this strong. I should have done something to avoid the information of your coming and the whereabouts of the statue being said publicly.”
“It’s to be expected. After all, it was found in all old dungeon, covered for centuries under an old bookstore in Venice with an anonymous sculptor,” Ludwig reminded, taking lead in their head through the halls.
“Just the kind of thing to have the art world fretting,” Francis pointed as he followed behind him.
“What work has been done?” Ludwig asked.
“Only the usual cleansing. Other than that nobody has dared to do anything until your inspection.”
“Anything revealed after it?”
“No, just some assumptions on the artist after some examination.”
“Cominelli? Sebenico?” Ludwig wondered after the first initial pictures and information he had been sent.
“Some wondered Alessi, Tagliapietra, even a lost sculpture of Michelangelo or Bernini.” Francis had to admit that it was all rather exciting, taking a card to open one of the restricted double doors that led to the storage basement of the museum.
“But we already checked through all their writings and found no such mentioning of this statue.”
“Any other sculptors?”
“We had a team in charge of this, we found nothing. Perhaps were dealing with a more obscure artist.”
“Perhaps this was the only statue he ever made in his lifetime.”
“With the details, the impeccable form and perfection…I highly doubt it.” Francis was sure.
They occasionally met with Interns who followed with their own questions, wanting to use such a chance as having the famous archeologist, Ludwig Beilschmidt, in their own privacy, all to which Ludwig answered in quick phrases as to not stall. He really couldn’t say more until he had the trending and suddenly acclaimed statue right before him, and the closer they were in its proximity, the more he was reminded of his excitement, quickening him to the point that Francis had to basically run to match his pace.
They soon met heavier guarded doors, with all kinds of scanning devices and even computers that Francis used a good minute to just unlock and let themselves proper entrance to this area of the deep basement. It was a small hall with labeled rooms, documenting name of the statues and the personnel permitted to work on it.
Room number 1317, name: The Angel of Venice, was the one, one of the largest in the hall, too large since the statue it held was not that immense but just the proper size of any young man, taking center, space just enough for anybody to come close, inspect around, tables holding all kinds of books, files, utensils, supplies, from the cleaners, the interns, Francis, who was the director, and now Ludwig, placing his own bag in one of those many banks as he let himself stare in awe to this new majesty.
The statue was that of an angel, a boy, the age rather obscure. Some features made him older, perhaps twenty-three, but others, like his youthful face and the smoothness of his captured movements could hint at him being sixteen or eighteen. He had the typical curls of these kinds of statues, one in particular standing above all the rest as some kind of ruler, all parted at the center, letting the frontal bangs frame and show the beauty of his facial features. He was naked, showing a delicate body, slim but plump in certain areas that made his figure excellent and tempting. His whole body showed his extend as he seemed to rise upward, going for a jump as if to catch or stop something falling from an imaginary heaven. The wings at his back moved well along with him, caught in that very wind as the very piece of fabric that went around his body, covering his genitals discreetly, accenting his voluptuous figure and his grace as an angel.
Francis had seen this statue enough times before him like this and yet he always fell into the same awe, the same admiring and captivation that left him silent and pensive. Ludwig didn’t mock or insult, he understood, for it was exactly what he was going through, especially after this was the very first time he was watching the statue in person.
Beautiful…utterly beautiful. What a chance he was given to work on this, how grateful he was for his position, for the time he will have to analyze and find information to clear up the history of this majesty that was before them now.
“Any idea of what year it’s from?” Ludwig asked after he shook himself back to their original concentration.
“Fifteenth century we assume. Some of our interns speculate perhaps early sixteenth century. We are not clear on a specific year and we wondered you could pinpoint.”
“No writings mentioning?”
“From what we’ve searched, no.”
“Yet you’re sure it’s Italian. Venetian?”
“Positive. I’m sure you’re seeing it clearly as well,” Francis was confident and Ludwig had to give him the right, but it did not stop his eyes from scanning any other details that could point differently.
“It was found in Venice after all,” Francis assured with an expectant smile.
“How will my scheduling work to check on it?” Ludwig wondered, ever as diligent, Francis expected as much.
“We’re prepared to offer you whatever time you need,” Francis confided.
“And accommodations?” Although the museum was located in the mainland, it was still in an important center, with it being the port that would bring most of its relics to display in the islands, as this particular statue was set to. As so, it meant that it would be pricey. Of course, Ludwig had the funds, but he rather preferred to have as much given as possible with the kind of work and time he would need for this.
“We can give you an apartment to your use for as long as you need, with keys and cards to enter the museum whenever you wish,” Francis coated.
“Very well then,” Ludwig was decided, turning to face Francis, finally away from the statue to show his decree. “I will start in a fortnight. Give me this time to settle myself as well as to find any other outer information. I know you mentioned your workers and interns tried to, but I have to check upon this by myself as well. When the statue was found, are you sure it was alone? Was it with any other items? Documents?”
“It was in a cellar hidden well underneath a book store. No parchment, no utensils, it was truly alone except for the water that occasionally flooded the space.”
“Do you still have the contacts to the owners and workers of this book store?”
“Yes.”
“I require them.”
“We already interviewed the owners.”
“As I said, I will do my own findings,” Ludwig determined.
Francis nodded and accepted to whatever could be of help. It was why they called him, it was why they confided in him to give them the piece of completion to this statue that would help them to finally put it on exhibition and present an answer to an incredibly curious mystery.
“We’re all upstairs ready for your contract signing,” Francis could finally present.
“Very well. Shall we go then?”
They turned and left the statue to its accustomed loneliness and darkness.
“-It was just as you suspected, the Wolanski are not the original owners of the building,” Roderich informed in the call, going through the notes and files on his own desk back at Vienna. “They were wealthy Polish tourists who simply bought the building on a whim and took ownership of the store. It took a six minute conversation to find out they have no idea of the mechanisms and fundings, they don’t even know their inventory or the names of their workers, but they did have their numbers, so it helps us and perhaps it would serve you better to contact them instead.”
“Figured as much. Do you have all the workers?” Ludwig asked from the comfort of his own given apartment, at the table going through files and the directions of the store on his laptop.
“Yes, I even took the liberty of calling. Some of them are newer members who’ve only been there for a couple of months, but there’s this one girl, Erminia Sessa. She’s been there for years, in fact, she’s the granddaughter of the past owner and the one who actually found the statue.”
There, that was the person he needed to talk to.
“Did you tell them about me?”
“Yes, told them you might be visiting sometime this week to gather some answers.”
“Perfect. I’ll see if I can head there tomorrow. You know how busy and crowded these ports can get.”
“The museum didn’t give you better contacts for that?”
“No. They probably expect me to clear everything from this hotel room. I should have mentioned it to them now that I think about it.”
“How odd, you forgetting such details,” Roderich mocked.
“There’s a lot on my mind about this,” Ludwig tried to excuse, groaning and straining as if the pile of everything just landed newly upon him.
“You are blessed to have me organizing what I can then, and that I even take time away from my piano playing to help you on this. You should consider raising my pay.”
How haughty.
“If we get the full story to this statue, it could be possible.” Ludwig at least gave him that expectation.
“We better get to it. Leave me be so I can keep finding what I can.” Roderich just hanged up without warning, leaving Ludwig quite perplexed, but he accepted and focused instead on other information.
He took one of the early morning yachts the museum offered him on a short notice, part of the early touristic crowds that filled the streets annoyingly, seeming to make the morning sunshine worst. Ludwig tried to avoid as much closeness to people as he could, but in these small streets, with the beginning of summer, impossible. He ended up accepting the bumps, the close trips, even the occasional comments on his stature, on his attraction, on questioning over the long coat jacket he wore under this strong sun. He would scare them away with his heavy stare, denial or even scoff depending on how insisting the person was being. It was a relief to have finally met a somewhat empty street, deep within the confinements of the city that didn’t make it known to the usual wave of tourists. There was a pawn shop, a fine jewelry store, a café and finally the book shop he was looking for.
‘La stella dell’orizzonte’ it was called, the glass decorated and presenting the books that would surely grab an interest to the public. When he entered, only a singular couple was there, going over the books in the Christian shelves, all organized neatly along with the other sections, a stack here and there creating pillars as if to hold the very ceiling. He spotted spiral stairs that would lead to another floor, to more books, to perhaps a view, or even a little café.
“Signore Beilschmidt?” A female asked, stopping Ludwig’s wandering, having him turn to meet the figure of a young woman, shy, rather hesitant, but surely ready to be compliant to whatever the blond would say.
“Are you Erminia Sessa?”
She nodded.
“Greetings. As my secretary has probably already told you, I’m here from the museum of Padua. They recently hired me to research the statue that I was later informed you found.”
“I was the one who called the museum, I wasn’t contacted again after they came to pick it up,” she seemed rather disappointed about that.
“They didn’t?”
“They didn’t think I would know anything.”
“I was told by my secretary that your grandfather used to own the book shop. Could you tell me about this, as well as your experience on how you found this statue? Anything you know will be of great use,” Ludwig seemed to plead.
She nodded and ushered him to follow, bringing him into the inner halls of the shop away from any usual commotion that might arise.
“This building is old, I’m telling you, centuries old. My grandfather used to hold documents concerning it from as early as the fourteen hundreds, passed along by all kinds of families until somehow ours got it, from nineteenth century on until the Wolanski bought it from us,” she began to explain as the books disappeared, as they began their entering unto more eldered walls.
“Is it possible to ask of you all those documents?”
“I’ll have to find and organize them, but I’ll send scanned copies as soon as I have them,” she determined, which assured Ludwig enough.
They took a narrowed staircase down to the basement of the building, humid, with an awful odor and the walls so old it seemed like they would collapse at any moment. Ludwig didn’t understand how it managed to keep the upper areas standing.
“From those old documents, my family realized that this building was meant to have three rooms in the basement area, but for as long as possible we only knew of two. I myself was very curious about it, as the documents mentioned that it had been a very important room and that…something was hidden there.” They reached the bottom, a hall showing two opened areas, surely those two rooms of unimportance, Ludwig seeing that they simply used them as some sort of utility closets. “After reading and watching so many mysteries, I kept coming down here hoping to find some secret entrance, something abnormal and then I noticed it.” By this moment, she had grabbed her flashlight, for the hall was darkened and lights from the upper floor weren’t enough to show exactly what she had found. Ludwig assumed she had broken through one of the walls for she pointed to a wreck, probably done with a sledgehammer, the hole enough for passage, one that they both could use and go through easily.
“I noticed something off with the echoes, then during acqua alta the pouring noises that always resounded across the building, even how the pillars were older compared to the frontal wall. That’s when I knew that there had to be something there.”
“So you went ahead and just destroyed it.” It seemed too brash for Ludwig.
“I was sure and curious, so yes, I did just that, and that’s when I found it.” She meant the statue, remembering clear her awe, her impression, halted to the spot thinking it perhaps a dream, lost in her discovery, her mind begging answers to a sure story.
She pointed her flashlights to sewers at the top and bottom, the walls still wet and even letting new water continuing to drip below, already puddles forming, some leaving out back into the other sewers.
“Throughout the years this room kept flooding, not to mention that they sealed it completely,” she began to wonder. “The documents don’t specify exactly what was in there and why, just that there was something, but no one dared to find out. Many were superstitious, including my own grandfather, so they thought some evil was locked away and they decided not to deal with it.”
“What do you think this means?” Ludwig asked.
She only shrugged. She was only saying speculations. “Someone tried to hide it, someone tried to hide whatever proof of this statue. Why and what for, I’m sorry, Mr. Beilschmidt, I don’t know, there’s nothing else I can say.” She was apologetic, but Ludwig understood.
“And are you positive that it was alone, nothing else with it?”
“I’m very sure.”
He was once again at a dead end.
He sighed disappointedly but thanked her, reminding her to send those documents before he settled off back into the earlier masses, only adding to his annoyance and ineptitude.
Erminia had sent every scanned document on an email attachment, there for Ludwig to inspect the moment he returned back to his rented apartment after the dinner he was forced to attend at Francis Bonnefoy’s request with the rest of the archeologists and interns who were working with the Angel of Venice. Honestly, going through these readings was actually quite relaxing after having been forced to socialize, even though he remained much of the diner silent and only nodding to whatever was directed his way. Although indeed these documents showcased quite a lot of enlightening information on the business of this building as early as the fifteenth century, there was nothing that could connect to the statue. In the years that they speculated the statue must have been carved, there was a large blank in the row of names, Erminia admitting that the documents concerning that particular family were lost. The owners who held it afterward found no use to keep them as that blank family barely spent any time there and was only using the building as some sort of storage or even a study.
Ludwig groaned to his hand at this, settling off to sleep decided that he would visit the museum the next morning.
With all the pass keys he was given, Ludwig went right inside the museum, carrying his bags and walking about as if it was all his owing and home. All greeted him like he was but another of the staff, not minding at all as he went straight to the basement and straight to where they kept the Angel of Venice. Lucky for him, he had had the room all to himself, and as he checked the scheduling, turns out there wouldn’t be anybody down in this room for about two days. Perfect, he would use that time to the best of his abilities.
He took out everything; papers, files, documents, his laptop, gloves, spray, some snacks, even a thin blanket and pillow…if he had to stay there until he had some new kind of answer, so be it. He had everything organized well enough in one of the many tables presented, its direction towards the statue, a perfect angle for Ludwig to capture in all its graciousness, only for him, only for him to inspect and be sure that the decade they decided was the one that it actually was. He prepared his gloves and took one of the many inspecting utensils, coming forward and beginning this new search.
In the process he realized that he was in fact taller than the statue, which meant it was easier for him to move around him without the help of a mini escalator, the only difficult part being the hand that rose upward above his head. He made sure to take in every detail, every dirt, every form, he taped, he heard, he let the gloved hand feel across every expanse, every bend, every depth and fullness. He rid of some stains that the staff had forgotten, shined some parts that could be manageable, the tiniest part exposing more of what he needed. He let himself map the statue in his mind with just its tact, spending all the necessary hours he needed until everything was well explored. He kept a notebook he constantly returned to, panning out all the details, pairing them all up to a movement, a year it was mostly used, going back to his computer to check through documents, articles, journals and other eBooks to be sure.
It was late, twenty-three, the museum closed to the public and Ludwig was just riding his gloves, with no answers but the same ones the interns had decided. No matter what he inspected today, it only assured that it was those years that were blank in the documents. He groaned and threw the gloves harshly to the table, calming his breaths, wanting to bring his mind to a better focus, to a new angle to look at this.
Maybe he needed better lighting, maybe less, maybe he should look under it, maybe he should take a piece and send it to a lab for inspection or maybe he could just try again. This time he left the gloves on the table and dared himself to use his simple tact, with heat and nerves to feel it to better detail. This was surely not allowed and if Ludwig was being honest, he would have the person who dare touch it unprotected fired and never to step on the museum again…but he had to try every way, besides, he was the main archeologist for the statue, surely things like this were allowed as long as he was careful, quick and he could clean it well before any x-rays could notice.
His inspection began once again, the softness of the marble now fresh for his palm, cold, surprisingly smooth, moving on ahead in such a way that Ludwig’s mind was left blank. What was he doing this for again? All his mind held was the form, the sudden indecency, noticing how seductive those thighs were formed, the extend of his legs that his hands went down on for no apparent reason. A hand wrapped itself around the waist of the figure, the soft stomach just as alluring, perfection, beauty. There was suddenly no duty, no job, but a kind of loving that made him forget that he was letting himself be swayed by an old statue, even resting into his neck, his body tightening to it, to just about every part of him dedicated to this exploration and odd application. It was intimate, somehow he could feel heat, the statue’s hardness for a moment the soft of real skin, taking breaths, alive in his arms to be that sudden lover he could enjoy for the night.
Once his eyes opened, meeting with the dullness of those empty sockets did he really come into the realization of what he was doing. He sighed, disappointed in how he let himself act on such a sudden and passionate impulse. What if someone came in and saw him like that? He would definitely be ridiculed.
He looked down to his watch, realizing how late it was, at least being assured that no one would be at the museum but perhaps some inspecting guard. He sighed, readying himself for a night he would remain awake for. He picked his laptop, settled closer to the angel and continued on marking off years and putting in any he had an idea about, comparing with other statues he had worked with and trying other guesses.
The last time he had checked, it had been about two a.m. when he started drifting, swiveling from side to side trying to keep his composure, but the rest on the floor won and soon he found himself in that lay. Uncomfortable it was but it was the most peaceful sleep he managed in his position.
He had done enough, he had time the next day to go on. He was already advancing more than most in this museum. What could a harmless lay do now?
He let himself be engulfed completely, missing the shine, the blinding light and suddenly the movement and the first starting breath after hundreds of years.
The artificial lighting seemed to glow more intensely, annoyingly so and no matter the shadow over him, he could still feel the burning throughout his whole body, especially after he had laid on the floor for the night. His head felt incredibly comfortable though, lying upon something soft, warm, and even a nice scent. He didn’t recall taking his pillow…actually, who was tracing the front of his hair? The fingers were velvety, lulling, they tempted Ludwig to rest on and for a moment he was a victim of that pull…until he noticed the naked creamy thighs he was surrounded with.
He stood urgently and with an alarming shout, not expecting to see the young man who was knelt on the floor, naked, only a single thin fabric covering the indecency. He seemed quite relaxed as Ludwig quickly adjusted himself, leaning his head, confused on the articles of clothes Ludwig fixed, on the tables and chairs he tried to hold himself in his panic, at the lights that shone above, the simplicity of this room with weirder gadgets in the corners that seemed to come from the imaginative sketches of his masters.
“What is this? What are you doing here?” Ludwig fretted, dreading that he didn’t remember where he put his cellphone or where that damn button was to call security.
“Cosa stai dicendo?” The intruder still asked, his eyes and expression as lost as a child would be, his bronze eyes solely on Ludwig as if expecting him to answer more clearly now and explain what happened.
Ludwig managed to find his phone between a pile of papers he was reading during the night and quickly settled on dialing the first number that appeared. In the waiting rings he finally took notice of something that should had been clear the moment he awoke.
The statue…it wasn’t there, and as he turned around, it was nowhere, no trace, no remnants, the only thing that sat on its closest spot was the strange naked boy. In his anger and growing desperation, he hanged up the call and slapped it harshly on the table.
“Where is it?” He threatened, pointing menacingly.
The boy jumped, easily trembling, crawling back, whimpering even. He looked very close to crying and for a single moment Ludwig felt pity, for a second calming before the emptiness of the room reminded him of what this boy was suspected of doing.
“Don’t act like such a fool and tell me this instant where you hid it. This is nothing to be using to play games and it can cost you gravely. Now, please, before this-” as he gazed on to the boy he began to notice something rather astonishing. Take out the tears that were shinning his eyes, take out the warmth, the colors, the movements…the boy looked remarkably like… no, foolish, no possible way.
“What kind of trick are you playing?” An exaggerated performance it had to be. Was he being tapped? Did his older brother decide to get back on him this badly?
“Signore, per favore, Io non so di che sta parlando o dove sto,” the boy continued to tremble, tears evident, still Ludwig not falling to whatever highly develop farce they were making.
“Inglese?” Ludwig tried to connect, but the boy still negated in a nervous shake. He sighed desperately and tried another language, “Deutsch?”
To his surprise, the boy actually nodded, responding, “ein bisschen.”
“What are you doing here then?” He continued to ask as menacingly in his native tongue.
“I-I don’t know, I-I really, really don’t remember that well,” he continued to sob in broken German.
“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Vicious, on the brink on throwing himself on him and demanding more.
Drunk, this boy must have been drunk then.
The boy shook even more, practically laying on the floor defenseless, arms over himself as some sort of protection. “I can’t! I can’t! All I remember is my name and some vague details. I wish I could tell you more, but really, I can’t! Please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me!” The boy pleaded enough for Ludwig to give up into.
Okay, perhaps he was some escaped loon, maybe the most elaborate prank in his life. Whatever it was, now it should surely end. Yet there was the boy still in his tears, shaking, and now he was getting cold. Curse his sympathy.
He went to the table to get a coat to drape over him, the boy taking instant grab and warmth of it. It stilled the shaking, helping along with bringing calm to the room, for Ludwig to think, to inspect.
Okay, Ludwig would have surely awakened with the ruckus it should take to move a statue like the Angel of Venice out of this highly secured room. If he hadn’t, then surely guards would have noticed, and alarms would have rung enough as another emergency awakening. He checked his phone again and he was sent absolutely nothing concerning any disappearance with the statue.
Maybe it was placed elsewhere in the room, but there was just no other kind of storage or locker. It wasn’t stolen, it wasn’t misplaced, there were no messages alerting him of it, and his eyes fell on the boy again.
The boy was back to his trembling with the blond man’s intense glare, hiding deeper into the coat he had given him.
“What’s your name?” Ludwig went back to interrogating.
“Fe-Feli-Feliciano,” he at least managed to utter.
“Full name!”
“I…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? It’s your family name!”
“I-I’m sorry, but I don’t remember it!”
“How could you possibly-” he had gotten too loud, harsh, he even raised his hands in desperation which surely sent wrong signals to the boy. He cowered once again and completely covered himself in the jacket, cocooned, only shivers and sobs escaping.
Ludwig took a breath, heading away from his direction to get a moment to order himself again.
Breathe, breathe, reasonable explanations, reasonable explanations, he kept thinking to himself.
“Where are you from?” He went back.
Feliciano replied with a heavy negative nod under his shield.
“How did you get here?”
The same nod.
“What can you actually remember?” He couldn’t hold his angered tone, getting a shriek from the other.
“That my name is Feliciano and uh…I remember waking up here.” The boy peeked to look about the room, the same lost expression, but igniting curiosity.
“Anything before that?”
Silence as Feliciano really tried to dive into his mind to get some sort of clue, but the same image kept repeating.
“I remember um… a painting room…”
“A painting room?”
“Mhm…and…a lot of scattering, someone is angry and…” he really tried to make more sense of it, but that only memory was still much of a blur he couldn’t decipher.
“And?” Ludwig still expected.
“I…can’t…remember anything else.” He trembled expecting the blonde’s anger to expand to its worst, this time truly expecting a hit, and so he reverted to the protection of the jacket.
Ludwig only groaned highly, his hands keeping a harsh hold of the near table. He was tempted to throw it over, but such a disastrous situation was avoided by a sudden knock against the door.
“Mr. Beilschmidt?” Someone asked.
His panic only intensified, petrified to the spot, only turning his gaze to the boy, who perked from the jacket at the voice of another.
The knock repeated. “Mr. Beilschmidt, is everything all right?”
“Ye-yes, everything is fine.” Goddamn the trembling as he turned from the boy to the door.
“Are you sure? They told me you were here all night. Do you need anything?”
“Uh, no, no, I have everything, thank you.”
“I still need to come in and make sure. May I open the door?”
He had to be quick, his eyes in a fretful search throughout the room hoping for any sudden idea. His eyes landed on a folded white blanket in one of the tables. Perfect.
Trying that his quickened steps weren’t hard, he picked it up and headed to the boy, harshly picking him up by the arm and dragging him to where the statue was originally standing. Feliciano held back and tried to go back to the shell of his jacket.
“Listen to me!” Ludwig commanded through gritted teeth, flaring and tightening the hold he had of him. Feliciano was compliant, albeit because of the deep fear Ludwig instilled. “I’m going to put you in a position, and I need you to stay in it and not make a single movement.” He had studied the statue enough, he knew exactly how to capture it with this sudden model, Feliciano easily moving to Ludwig’s pulls until he was in a decided stand. Ludwig moved back, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely naked, the fabric under him with no possible way to keep it breezing in the air. He didn’t have the wings or halo either, but hopefully the visitor wouldn’t question it. As Ludwig gazed, he saw more of the proof on how Feliciano was an exact replica of the statue. He fitted to the image of white marble, that light that came bouncing reflecting him in heavenly glow, like magic that reminded him…no, no, no. He groaned at believing such nonsense.
The knocking again. “Sir? Is there somebody there? I heard some speaking earlier.”
“Oh, I’m just…” he quickly placed the blanket over Feliciano, making sure he was covered well before he gave the approval, “you can come in.”
In an instant a guard entered, inspecting well the room before his gaze finally landed on Ludwig. “Ah, you’re well.”
“Yes, um, sorry, I was having a call with my secretary.”
“Not a problem, just making sure.” And then his eyes landed on the draped statue. “What happened?”
“Was clearing some dust and covered the statue to protect it,” he excused.
“All right. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
Couldn’t he just leave?
“I’m perfectly fine. I’ll call Bonnefoy if I need anything.”
The guard gave him thumbs up and one last smile before he shut the door. He gave a couple of more seconds before he could take a breath of relief, then quickly freeing Feliciano from the blanket. Feliciano understood enough to break out from the position, freeing his arms and legs from the strain, even if it still felt like he had been in it for such a long time.
“Let’s get straight to the point. Are you the statue?” He thought he could start to get that nonsense out of the way.
“The statue? What?” He was just as lost.
“The statue, the Angel of Venice.”
Still the same confusion and lost look in his eyes. Ludwig groaned yet again. This was getting hopeless.
An idea shone suddenly, one that would prove whatever dream was taking place. He sighed, they would have to wait.
“Are you hungry?”
Feliciano perked with such a glow that he might as well flown to the ceiling. He nodded, with a wide smile that showed more than enough eagerness. Of course.
Luckily the museum had a cafeteria, with a variety of selections and Ludwig decided on taking as much as possible. He received weird looks over the large bag he was hauling across the museum halls but halted their curiosities by saying he was just hungry.
Ludwig had told Feliciano to remain in the covers of the blanket for if anyone came, but he did his best to arrive as quickly as possible. He placed every package on one of the tables, the boy instantly curious in just…the plastics, the lettering, trying to read an Italian so different from what he knew. While Ludwig settled on some packaged tagliatelle with mushroom, bacon and chicken, Feliciano poked his pesto rosso pasta with the plastic fork…that he had stared to just as perplexed. Every little thing was a new discovery to him, from the vibration in Ludwig’s cellphone, the opening card to the room, the water bottles and just the rest of the foods he had brought. Ludwig assumed he had gotten typical things from Italy, but some tastes exploded wonderfully anew in Feliciano’s tongue, undiscovered and unfamiliar, getting him more gluttonous to try more and more.
“That’s…panna cotta,” Ludwig explained to the new dessert in Feliciano’s hand. He kept poking it with his spoon, playing with the elasticity, raising it to his nose to smell, wondering for the longest while.
“It’s sweet like…cake.” It was enough of a persuasion to get him to try, and like all the rest of the plates, he had glowed, smiling wide and swinging his feet. It had basically been this for the entire day, that panna cotta the last of what Ludwig had brought. He looked to all the empty bowls and plastic pieces, hoping to get some new idea to keep them entertained in the meantime. Night was finally approaching, Ludwig taking notice with the clock in his phone or just how tired he was starting to get.
“Um…sir?” Feliciano instigated for once.
“What?” Ludwig didn’t mean to sound so harsh and annoyed.
Feliciano shook, but after focusing on the warmth of the jacket he still wore, he breathed and braved enough to continue. “Can I…Can I know your name?”
“Ludwig,” he answered coldly.
“Ludwig?” Feliciano tested it out well in his tongue.
“Ludwig Beilschmidt. What is the need of knowing?”
“I just…wanted to properly address you,” he shied.
Ludwig sighed, after all it would be needed depending on what this outcome could mean. He still wanted to hope that it was after all nonsense and that this boy was just playing with him and would give him back the statue. As his mind returned to the statue, instantly it went back to the questioning he had been working on for the last few days, still going on with his wondering.
If this boy turned out to be the ridiculousness it could be…he had the chance to have all the answers easily handed to him. If he could get him to remember…to crack everything to create the opening to let this be the find of the decade, he would get millions and recognitions unbelievable.
“You really don’t remember your surname?” He asked. If he knew, perhaps he could find it in the documents.
“Va…Va…” He really tried to think.
“I really need you to try hard.” Ludwig even neared, ready to catch that answer he could get.
“Val…Vale…” It was as if his mind had frozen, actually his entire being began to freeze in that very stand his last whisper took.
The bottle Ludwig was holding fell to the floor in the shock of what he saw next.
Like a sprinkling of dust, he saw himself as parts of the boy’s skin began to take the familiar grey and white of marble, a spreading that continued from his sides, to his legs, chest and face. There was a dim light to signify the completion and once again Ludwig was standing face to face with the Angel of Venice.
The panna cotta had fallen without the balance of human movement, yet now the statue sat exactly as he had last enjoyed from the dessert, halo and wings back on him, a new piece of fabric over him, the elder one gone from the spot Ludwig had placed it on.
After various minutes of astounded staring…Ludwig settled on slapping himself repeatedly.
No, he didn’t awaken, the statue was there, as the last form the boy took, and the fantasy he had thought could be a possibility turned out to be the reality. Of course, a cascade of questions bombarded instantly on his minds and he didn’t know which should be addressed first. He had to fight through the headache as he had to continue to think and straighten what the hell was going on. In his disarray, he noticed that Feliciano didn’t take his original position, which meant that once again he had had to hide him until he transformed …if it did happen again. Still, precautions needed to be taken and a plan must be instantly set into motion. He had one simple idea he could start with and he had to leave immediately to get it to work well. Bless his strength and that he could move Feliciano to his original spot, blanket over him, taken his key card with him and already an idea of what to tell Francis.